#invest in a night guard before your teeth crack ladies

[mewvore]

collateral damage from bruxism

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: One Minute

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: The third time that Jester’s Wand of Smiles fails on Caleb, she gives up on any pretense and just whines. “Cay-leb!” Jester is determined to see Caleb smile. Molly has an idea.

Wordcount: 2018

A/N: Hi, it’s been a while! I have a graduate degree and a new fandom and no idea how I got here... there’s a lot of stuff I need to clean out of my inbox/drafts, but I hope you’re all doing well!

The third time that Jester’s Wand of Smiles fails on Caleb, she gives up on any pretense and just whines. “Cay-leb!”

“Ja?” he replies, not even looking up from his book. He looks comfy, legs stretched out on his bed. Molly can’t help but snort at how unruffled he sounds - when plied with literature or magic, their wizard can ignore almost anything.

Which is good, because he’s been in a room with Jester and Molly as they make their way through Tusk Love for nearly two hours now. Jester insists on reading the novel out loud, voices and all, determined for Molly to enjoy the racy scenes along with her despite his own lack of reading ability. Unfortunately, her favor’s gotten them rousted from their own territory - Fjord is in their shared room, sharpening his falchion (and Molly’s scimitars, upon receiving a solemn promise that Molly will never tell him a single detail of the plot), and across the hall Beau and Nott are napping off the last of their celebratory hangovers, Beau grumpier than usual after Yasha disappeared again last night. In a begrudging concession to their team of boring people, the two of them have ended up cuddling on the spare bed in Caleb’s room, cackling over every other page as the writing reaches increasingly lurid and inept new heights. Emboldened by Caleb’s inattention to their antics, Jester appears to have taken on the additional goal of catching Caleb off guard with her smiling spell.

It’s not going well, but Molly is more than content to sit back and watch her try.

“Why doesn’t it work on you?” Jester demands. “Did you do something to it before you gave it to me?”

“Of course not,” Caleb says mildly, still fixed on his reading. Then he keeps going, because stoic as the man is he seems to have an innate talent for winding Jester up. “Although why would I tell you if I did?”

At Jester’s barely muffled scream of failed pranking frustration, he finally turns to look at them. “That was a joke. It’s not such a hard thing to resist, Jester.”

“Then stop resisting! I just want to see you smile one time! Just for one minute!” She’s serious in her demands, if not outright upset - Molly can feel her tail lashing around behind his back. “You don’t have to be embarrassed or anything if your teeth are dirty, you know, it’s just me and Molly and we won’t tell anyone!”

Caleb frowns a little. “You are oddly invested in this.”

“I’ve been trying so hard!” Jester cries, jabbing a finger in his direction. “For a whole hour! What if smiling will actually kill you, but we don’t know, and then we’re fighting someone, and they have a wand like mine or Nott’s laughter spell or maybe they just tell really good jokes and then you die? We have to know these things!”

Molly is appropriately amused by her rambling. Caleb just looks concerned. “Was - Jester, is this something you’re actually worried about?”

“Well, I am now,” Jester grumps. It’s endearing how much she cares about the group, even when her caring is intense and a little embarrassing and almost entirely nonsensical. Cuddled up against him as she is, Jester can feel him laughing and turns to pout at him instead. He pouts back and ruffles her hair, tugging lightly at one of her horns - he knows from experience that it feels a little weird and a little nice, and sure enough it’s not more than a couple seconds before she can’t keep a straight face anymore.

Which, now that he thinks of it...

Molly thinks it through like he does most things: not at all. Then he gets up with one last pat to Jester’s cheek, stalks across to Caleb’s bed, and shoves his legs over until there’s enough room for him to perch on the edge and get decidedly into Caleb’s personal space.

Caleb doesn’t hold his book up like a shield, but Molly suspects it’s only because he values the paper more than his own flesh. “Ah… Mr. Mollymauk?”

“Mr. Caleb,” Molly purrs. Gets an inch closer. “I have a question for you.”

Caleb’s eyes very pointedly fail to meet his. “... You could not have asked this question from back over there?”

“Nope, this is part of the plan.”

“And what,” Caleb asks, slow and steely, “are you planning?”

Molly sees his fingers twitch towards the Message wire wrapped around his wrist. “Nothing bad,” he soothes. Waits until the furrow in Caleb’s brow smooths out a little, and then springs his trap.

“Are you ticklish?”

Molly has determined from observation and a little practical experimentation that Caleb has two reactions when someone who isn’t Nott invades his personal space. The first is the stoic look of someone who figures they’re about to get a beating and is somewhat resigned to the fact. The second, infinitely more interesting, is the red-faced fluster of enjoying oneself despite oneself’s very best efforts.

He watches the red gather on Caleb’s cheeks and feels a thrill that runs all the way down his spine to a last sharp flick of his tail, chases it by leaning in just a bit closer and reaching out to play with the edges of Caleb’s coat.

“Ah,” Caleb stutters. “No?”

The blush intensifies, and Molly chuckles mock-ruefully. “Was that a yes? Jester, did you hear a yes?”

“Yes,” Jester practically shouts. “Get him, Molly!”

The coat doesn’t have any buttons, expected given its wear, but there are buttonholes and Molly loops his finger through one of them as he withdraws a little to catch Caleb’s eye. “I’ll be nice; I know we’re interrupting your reading. One minute.”

“One minute?”

He taps Caleb on the forehead. “You can keep track of time, right?”

Caleb is clearly playing catch-up. He nods jerkily. “Ah, Ja.”

“Great,” he says cheerfully. “One minute, count it out, let me know when to stop.”

“Wait, when to stop what-” And then Molly shoves his hands into Caleb’s coat and pokes a finger into each of his skinny sides and starts tickling. Caleb’s stutters morph into these little noises of protest that slip out every time Molly’s fingers so much as twitch, climbing rapidly higher-pitched and more giggly as the attack continues.

Molly offhandedly tells him exactly how cute those little noises are and earns himself even more of the same, along with a breathless little “Scheiße!” that delights him even further. Feet digging into the bed for purchase, Caleb twists away to the right, flopping sideways onto the mattress and jamming his arms against his torso to keep Molly’s hands from advancing further.

Molly chases him down, propping himself up with a knee so he can loom properly to watch his prey squirm. “Hiding in your coat?” he teases. He can barely see the red of Caleb’s cheeks above the upturned collar. “Maybe I’ll have to get you out of it. Tickle tickle!”

“N-nein!” Caleb squeaks and tries to duck his head even further. Eager to reap the fruits of his labor, Molly sacrifices one implement of torture to reach out and tug the collar down.

Caleb is - not laughing, really, he’s still doing a pretty impressive job of keeping it together and it’s a little offensive, but his face is scrunched up in the most enormous grin behind a curtain of lank hair and Molly feels his lips curling to match. “Alright, Jester,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure we can establish that smiling doesn’t kill him.”

“Wait! I want to see!” Hearing the scrambling noises of an approaching Jester, Caleb makes a sound like he’s dying and presses his hands over his face. Molly tuts disapprovingly and, taking advantage of Caleb’s torso being newly unprotected, proceeds to force his way under Caleb’s book holsters to pinch at the tops of his ribcage.

This, finally, gets Caleb to crack. “Ahaha-HA! Molly! Bit-bitte-!” He wheezes between peals of husky laughter, curling in even tighter on himself and swatting ineffectually at his coat as he tries to dislodge Molly’s hands through layers of cloth and leather.

Jester pops up behind him, squealing in delight as Caleb succumbs to mirth. “Aw, Caleb, you have such a pretty smile!” She reaches out to tilt his face at some predetermined angle, then giggles mischievously and tickles him under his chin to make him scrunch up all over again. “There, perfect! Now that I know what you look like when you’re smiling, I can draw it later!”

“You want to help?” Molly offers. “Honestly, I think he’s just getting more ticklish the longer this goes and I’m kind of curious to see how that’s going to end up.”

He stops tickling for the moment, giving Caleb a breather in case Jester does decide to jump in. Caleb takes this gracious opportunity to bury his face in the mattress and makes a tired little noise, now flushed bright red to the tips of his ears. He’s curled around Molly’s planted knee like a cat, and Molly can feel the press of his chest against his calf as Caleb catches his breath.

“We could do that,” Jester muses, hooking her chin over his shoulder. “Orrrr… Caleb can come read Tusk Love with us!”

Caleb goes still for a second. Molly’s honestly not sure if he’s breathing. Finally, he turns his head, one shining blue eye visible in the shadow of his face. “Those are the only two choices?” he asks, deadpan. “There can be no negotiations?”

“Nope!” Jester replies cheerfully.

Caleb sighs heavily. “Fine, I will read your smut with you.”

Jester cheers and flounces away, kneeling to drag the book out from where she chucked it under the bed in her excited dash. “Good choice! I am so good at tickling and you are very squishy, so you would die, probably.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, our cleric.” Molly tugs himself free of the holsters, waits for Caleb to uncurl and roll onto his back and start to sit up.

Then, sword-slash quick, he pins Caleb at the waist with both hands and leans over to speak lowly in his ear. “You didn’t tell me to stop.”

Caleb’s ear hits him in the side of the face - obviously, he doesn’t startle well. “What?”

“I told you to let me know when the minute was up.” He rubs a thumb gently over Caleb’s side, relishing in the flinch and startled huff of breath. “So.” Presses lightly, rolling on the ball of his thumb until Caleb can’t help but giggle. “Either that was a very long minute, or I’m going to have to start doing this more often.”

Caleb’s face is too blurred to make out, this close, but red is never that hard to see. “I… I forgot,” he blurts, a little too loud.

“You? Forgot?” Molly laughs despite himself, then straightens a little and plants a kiss on Caleb’s forehead just because the poor thing is pinned and he can. “Oh, dear.”

“What did you forget?” Jester interrupts, clearing her throat noisily. “That you two are supposed to be reading with me, and not whispering in each other’s ears?” She pauses. “Or you could keep going, I guess, but then you should probably tell me to leave if you’re going to -” She clicks her tongue suggestively.

Caleb sits up so fast that he knocks Molly over, then stumbles to his feet for good measure. “Nein! Jester, we aren’t going to - we’re not - you are reading too much smut.”

She shrugs, unashamed and grinning a very, very wide grin. Molly suffers no illusions that his face doesn’t look exactly the same. “And plenty of watching my mamma work before that! Now come read! Maybe it will give you i-de-as!” She sing-songs the last word, and Caleb looks about ready to fall right back down.

Molly gets up, clapping a hand on Caleb’s shoulder to keep him upright. “Well, can’t argue with that,” he says, and walks the both of them over.

Although, he thinks, looking over at Caleb, he’s got plenty of ideas already.

[cupnoodle-queen]

CHASING SUNS: Chapter 6 Flesh Wounds

1,837 words FINA-FUCKING-LY, MY DUDES. Sheesh. 

The naga hunt was located near the Disc of Cauthess, the impact site of a meteorite from generations ago. More than once Cam considered turning the truck around, after all the drive was a long one, but then her side would flare up as flashbacks of Gladio and Steph rapid-fire assaulted her concentration and she’d give it more gas, reaching speeds well over the posted limit. Not like anyone would pull her over.

Self preservation was absent tonight. Cam knew somewhere in the deep recess of her psyche that what she was taking on could result in major injury; getting killed was also in the cards. Regardless, she had to do this. Even if it offered her tormented mind a moment’s release, it was enough.

Cam pulled over at the dead end of the access road and scanned through the flyer again, the flashlight held between her teeth. She plotted out a route using the map on her phone, shouldered her ammo pack and headed out into the endless night.

Fucking woman has a lead foot, Gladio thought as he pushed the Jeep to its limits, the boxy vehicle whipping around tight turns so hard he had to lean upright to counter the steer. He’d only caught sight of her taillights further back, and even then they were blurry at best. There was also another key issue; He didn’t know the exact location. Sure he’d review the hunt details before, considered starting a hunting party to go claim the bounty, but the specifics were foggy. All he could recall was that it nested near the Disc, but at which side? There was a gravelled access road to the south that didn’t appear on most map sites. His gut instinct told him she’d probably never known about the unmarked path, so he turned off onto the main exit.

The wrong exit.

Cam wove through the brambles and dead foliage, startled by the absolute silence that made the crack and snapping of twigs under her boots almost deafening. She could just make out an end to the treeline up ahead, an open field on the other side. She checked her phone’s GPS; it was close.

Having reached the edge of the small clearing she skirted the perimeter and checked for any telltale signs of the daemonic snake. A thick fog hung low in the air, a miasma of foreboding and warning. The long-since dead grass lay flat against the earth in spots, curving patterns cutting through sections leaving random tufts in patches. It had definitely come through here.

Checking her six, she withdrew her pistols, safety off.

Gladio reached the end of the road, concern creasing his forehead as he rounded the last turn. Lady luck missed role call; her truck was nowhere to be found. Still he pulled up to the dead-end street sign, killed the ignition and got out.

His hearing wasn’t top notch but after several seconds of silence, six consecutive gunshots echoed in the distance to the south, closer to the Disk. After a pause, another five shots, and then…

A horrifying scream cut the darkness, female and brimming with pain. Then silence.

NO-

Gladio panicked and bolted back to the Jeep, pulse frantic in his head as he threw the driver’s side door open and was driving off before he shut it, white-knuckling the steering wheel as he whipped the Jeep around, his soulmate marking seared to the bone.

As expected when he reached the end of the access road, her truck lay abandoned on the shoulder. He pulled up behind it and all but leaped from the vehicle, taking off headstrong into the trees without forethought. It was too goddamn quiet. His insides did back flips and he began to second-guess his sense of direction. He had no indication where she was, only a scream from across the forest to go on. Yet at the same time, he knew exactly where to go, the path leading towards the edge of the woods. He could make out an open space up ahead.

Gladio entered the clearing and the world stopped moving.

Several yards away, Cam’s body lay in a crumpled crescent facing away from him, motionless. Still.

His knees faltered, feeling like the ground was giving way to swallow him whole. It might as well have for the sight before him was shattering his soul, his sanity, slivers of his being spilled between the cracks, out of reach. The edges of his vision greyed out and the sun at his hip hardwired pain to his chest, like connecting to a car battery.

He approached her, each step daggers to his heart as he neared her broken form, the person assigned to him by the Astrals, this stranger who he’d let go on for far too long not knowing a thing about, all because he was afraid, afraid of the unknown, afraid of caring, afraid of who he was...He cursed himself as he hunched down to turn her over on her back, leaning her shoulders against his thighs.

Her face was expressionless, tranquil, save for the angry vertical red gash spanning above her left brow straight down her cheek, abruptly ending at the soft edge of her jawline. Blood mixed with tears and smeared in the socket corner of her eye and Gladio lifted a hand to wipe it away, as gentle as he could muster with his calloused fingertips.

Without warning her eyes flicked open, lashes brushing his digits as two pools of molten copper knocked the breath from his lungs. In this proximity of her being, her soul, her life...Like finding the missing piece to a jigsaw puzzle you started ages ago and left out, too invested to disassemble it and start over until that piece turned up where you least expected it to.

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards into the slightest smile possible against her tawny, chapped lips.

For the first time in twenty-five years of life, his heart skipped a beat.

Weakness was not an option, despite how easily her stare induced it. “Just what do you think you were doing?” He growled, a pang of regret in is throat as her smile disappeared in an instant.

Though not impart from his tone, as her eyes flicked from his to the side, fear shrinking her pupils. Her jaw quivered as she whispered. “Behind you...”

He could sense it, the movement, the shift in the air. Gladio froze in place. Sure enough the telltale hisssss curdled his blood. He had to act fast, think later. He leaned forward and hooked an arm under Cam’s legs and another around her back, hoisting her up. She winced but didn’t protest. The hiss from behind grew louder, more animated.

One shot, that’s all he had. It was this or their lives.

Gladio inhaled, gripped Cam close, and launched up into a sprint towards the trees. The naga roared with enough guttural force to make the ground tremor as it made pursuit of its prey. A viscous, hot liquid spat at him and Gladio changed course slightly, veering more to the left to avoid the assault of venomous acid. Cam locked her arms around his neck, clutching to him for dear life, her head tucked into his chest.

A whooshing sound caught Gladio off guard and he turned his head, but the incoming tail whip from the naga swept and disconnected his feet from the ground and they fell hard, Cam rolling her shoulder in the process. She cursed through her teeth as she scrambled back, the naga setting it’s sights on Gladio, who had his back turned. Cam located one of her pistols and flicked the safety off, aimed for the naga’s face, and fired, over and over.

The naga reeled back in response, it’s agonizing throes shaking the trees surrounding the clearing. Cam became the primary target. Good, she thought, better me than him.

Cam reached into her ammo pack...one clip left. She must have lost some in the scuffle. Shit.

The naga was rearing back, fangs exposed and poised to attack, preparing for the kill.

Not today. Not yet.

She unlocked the spent clip, slammed the ammo in the chamber, took a deep breath and emptied her weapon into the daemon’s face.

All ten rounds pierced through the naga’s right eye, one right after the other in perfect succession. It jerked, brain riddled with lead, swayed drunkenly to the side before its body slammed into the earth, the last seconds of life twitching out violently.

She did it. She’d downed one of the most difficult hunts possible, thanks to a little luck and fierce aim. Cam blinked, still trying to convince herself the beast was dead yet there it was, slumped over in the dead grass, its pockmarked humanoid face spilling blood. Without hesitation, she pulled out her phone, took a few pictures of her kill for good measure and slid it in her back pocket.

Gladio seemed at a loss for words. He exhaled, turning over to stand upright above her. “Stupid, dumb luck,” he finally mused, admonishment in his tone. “Could’a gotten yourself killed!”

Despite his words, he held out a hand for Cam to take. She pursed her lips; he was raining on her parade. She took his hand and he pulled her up without any effort.

The draw was back with a vengeance, almost impossible to resist. It didn’t help that he was so close, that he hadn’t let go of her hand yet. His skin was hot, she could almost feel their pulses synch into rhythm -

Gladio dropped her grasp, his arm jerking back as if he touched a hot stove element. Before she could question it, he pointed to the left side of her face. “You’re bleeding, we gotta get you back and have Dino look at it.”

Cam frowned, gently testing the gouged skin. It stung. “That bad?”

“Probably need stitches.”

“Great.”

When they got back to the vehicles, Gladio stepped in front of her and barred access to the driver’s side of Greyson’s truck. “Excuse me?”

He shook his head. “Nuh uh. You aren’t driving with a fucked up eye. Not safe.”

“My eye is fine,” Cam groaned. Why’d he have to make this difficult? “It’s only a flesh wound.”

Gladio scoffed, crossing his muscular arms. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone say that…”

“Pardon?”

“Nevermind,” He moved passed her towards his Jeep. “You’re coming with me. I don’t trust your word and I’d rather not pull you from a wrecked vehicle. Only get one life saving per day.”

Cam chuckled dryly. “That so? Well this isn’t my truck, so you’ll have to figure out how to get it back to HQ.”

“If the doc clears you, I’ll bring you back here to pick it up myself.” His tone was sincere; he’d follow through.

Sighing, Cam ensured the truck was locked before circling around the passenger’s side of the Jeep and hopped in as Gladio turned the ignition.

“Buckle up, naga slayer.”